Zukunft
by january sunshine
Summary: Future. Where some lie on the brink of death, some within the midst of confusion, some without identities, some without purpose... Weiss, you have a mission. Takes place after Gluhen. Written for Mentaru.
1. denken Sie

**A Disclaimer.**

Weiss Kreuz is not mine. I don't even own posters--that's kinda sad, actually...

**A Slight Apology.**

I don't take German. Titles and whatnot are from translations, and squeezed from Miyou-chan.

**A Dedication.**

This fanfic, the entire thing in its entirety, complete or not, is dedicated to my good friend, "Boring Old Miyouko", also known as **mentaru**. She and I had a Weiss Kreuz marathon at her house, and we both had this huge pause of silence and tearfulness when Gluhen ended. This fic is for her, since I don't believe Aya deserves such a crappy ending, and I want to give her a somewhat happier one.

_Hearts for you, Miyou-chan._

**Zukunft**

_denken._

.think.**commence**.

Delinquent children these days. His goal was to help them as he had been helped; he wanted them to have a chance to live at piece. He wanted them to feel loved, to know there was room to love even after all the pain, even after their mistakes.

The ability to live made them human. The ability to love made them more. Even after death, they would leave a legacy, whether their mission was completed or not.

He knew he couldn't help every child, even though he truly wished to. There were some who strayed, some who _would_ stray, like the small, staggering child who struggled his way down the sidewalk with the many others walking in his direction. The kid didn't look up, hand in his jacket pocket, trembling and upset, yet quiet, and Aya knew what was to happen.

Each person on that stretch of concrete had one thing in common. They were sinners. They had lied, stolen, cheated, and in his case, killed. A new sinner was in the making, Aya could tell. All met their appropriate fate. He already knew his; the crucifix he carried was heavy, weighed with the burdens of many.

He could almost tell what was to come.

_The familiar burn of sharp steel as it ripped past the two layers of fabric, through his flesh, inch by inch, at a downward angle..._

_He gasped softly._

The boy was a sinner. His blood stained a child's hands, a child's _impure_ hands... He wanted to carry that cross too. He carried sins and burdens. He couldn't allow that child to carry the sin of murder for the rest of his life.

_Ironic. It seemed appropriate. The murderer of hundreds... creates a sinner in his death..._

By the time he came to a halt in front of a mailbox, with one sharp breath inhaled, he knew he had to stop.

_He wasn't a god... He was far from it..._

His knees gave way. As he sank to the ground, his right hand held the knife in place, trying not to shift it in any way to possibly rupture any internal organs, but he knew it didn't help. Blood seeped through his clothing, warming his gloved hands, as he sat quietly on the cold ground. Sinners walked on this ground... a sinner was going to die on this ground...

_He knew it could be over. He was paying for his sins, for the sins of many..._

His eyes shut slowly, a soft whisper escaping drifting into the air.

_"That's right..."_

He was ready to leave, to travel to those unnaturally beautiful days, selling flowers from the trailer. As a soft, gentle breath escaped his lips, he found himself ready to face Hell if need be.

_...is this an ending? is it already over? the silence..._

This was his life.

_This was his life._

He was a married man.

_He woke up in a hospital. He had a name, he just couldn't remember it. He had a story, he just didn't know. He loved a woman, but he found her... he thought._

She fixed his tie that morning, since he couldn't quite remember how to fix it properly himself. Her hands were delicate, straightening the fabric, smoothing it down his tone chest, adjusting his jacket... all done with precision and care.

_Asuka..._

She was a lovely wife. After they had eaten breakfast, they grabbed the two bags of trash and left together. A reason for togetherness... because he shouldn't be alone. He didn't want to. It scared him.

_He knew there was something..._

_What was it?_

He could remember her words that day, when she told him. Amnesia. And he could possibly never remember... he didn't need to try, it would be better to start over. They were married, they were happy, he didn't need to remember anything.

So he just went to work quietly that morning, after a small kiss goodbye. They walked. He could have taken the car, but she might have needed it if she was called in. Plus, walks were good. The doctors told him that walking could help keep him fit and clear his mind.

Another man in a dark blue suit with a black briefcase in hand. Another man on the sidewalks...

_A sinner and he doesn't even know it._

His pale, hazel eyes look around him for familiar faces. Asuka told him not to look so hard, but he couldn't help it. It was the mystery which lay behind not knowing that bothered him. He wanted to know, he wanted to find out; he didn't have an identity without his past. He was just another living shell...

_Empty..._

But as he walked the vaguely familiar sidewalks, he saw a stranger. The man was crouched by a mailbox, skin pale and losing color. He had a hand at his midsection, and his eyes were closed. A homeless man wouldn't have dressed so nicely.

He wanted to find out. Something was drawing him to this man...

_Calling? Calling?_

_Hello. Yohji Kudou is here._

The man froze. Yohji... yes, his name. This man...

_Aya... Fujimiya Aya..._

_Who is he?_

Yohji gasped, looking at this unconscious figure. Dropping to his knees, he placed a hand on the man's neck, checking for a pulse. Faint... but there nonetheless. He wasn't dead... not yet, anyway. Thankfully.

Someone screamed. Yohji called out for help. A person pulled out a cell phone. The body was moved to lay, a bloody hand pulled from a bleeding wound... Was he dying? Was he dead?

_...I should have gotten there sooner... but... why? Who is Aya? He... he means..._

He knew this was getting rediculous. He was thinking, contemplating... it was rediculous. There had to be an answer; a reason had to be in here, a purpose, a solution... an answer. That was all he wanted. Answers.

Did he even have a question?

_That's the question right there..._

"Go back to the general population," the prison guard demanded. He wanted him to mingle. There was no reason to hide in solitary confinement. His days in there were now finished. He could start them again, whenever he wished, three days from today.

The smug action was not needed in the cafeteria. He knew he could be attacked for that. Hiding... this was all hiding. His outbursts, hiding his emotions behind false ones... he didn't know what he was doing.

_He didn't even know what he was doing._

They had him outside. Everyone was outside, for the air. The calm, fresh air... it would calm them down. Yet they worked themselves up over soccer. So rough, chasing, tackling, cheating... playing.

They lost the ball.

_That was when he found it._

He gave them a challenge. Catch him, free food. They lost the wager, he gained an answer.

_Soccer was the answer?_

_Confrontation... solving the problem made an answer._

That made a lot more sense than four concrete walls and a cold floor. In the cafeteria, he gave his lunch away anyway. He wanted real food.

"Can I have my phone call?" he asked. "I want to leave."

They couldn't deny him.

_He wasn't going to be stopped._

_Can I? I... I think I know why I'm going... but... where..._

_He was in a car._

He was often in a car. She sat next to him quietly as the driver cruised down a highway.

They were going to get him back. He remembered, he knew, he was coming. It had to be. A reunion was in need. But it wasn't going to last for long; nothing ever lasted for long.

_Ephemeral happiness... excellent..._

_Let us continue._

They continued to drive down this stretch of road, cars flashing past them, silent and tinted on the other side of the windows. He seemed unphazed by any of it, a phone at his ear. "Yes... I'll come get you."

_He would always come to get him._

A small smile formed. Weak and mysterious, but there. And he knew why. There was a purpose to this... there was an answer...

_...it was always true... you really can't run forever..._

_masks always shattered..._

_even the loners need company... once in a while..._

_sometimes the answers didn't matter..._

_the past... it's always there..._

_stop running._

_"Weiss... there is a mission."_

.denken.**end**.

Think.

**.wk.**

What do you guys think? I hope you liked it, it was fun to write. And it's all for Miyou-chan because she helps me a lot, and we had a WK marathon at her house, and hated the ending, and so I wrote this for her, so it won't end so... bad-like.

Yeah... love!

**:Darkness Princess.**


	2. speicher

Yes. One review, one fav, from that one dedication. Boy, aren't I lucky. But I heartz chu, Miyou-chan!

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**Zukunft.**

_speicher._

.memory.**commence**.

* * *

_Beep... beep... beep... beep..._

A steady, rhythmic pattern floated through the hospital room, monitoring a now-steady pulse. The man lay almost silently in his bed, eyes shut, his soft breathing echoed through the oxygen mask over his face. They had finally restored his blood pressure to a safe level, though he was still in severe condition at the hospital. He had finally been returned from the operating rooms, as it took five surgeons to remove the knife and stop the internal bleeding, but they couldn't determine any form of brain damage until he could bring himself to consciousness again.

The man outside had been told the information, as well as a congratulations for finding him so quickly.

"And what is your relationship with this man?" the nurse had asked.

"Uh..."

Silent.

_Like him._

He had his elbows on his knees as he sat on the bench in the hallway, hands folded in front of him, mouth dry against his thumbs. Everyone knew he was upset... because a man had been dying and nobody had stopped for him.

_No...that wasn't all._

Not near all. There was something... something he could feel, something he just knew, right under the surface. He frowned deeper, brows furrowed as he waited quietly.

Hurried footsteps rushed down the hallway, but he didn't look up until he found a familiar face in front of his, gentle, delicate hands on his stiffened shoulders. "Oh, honey... are you okay? Sora called me..."

He didn't seem to hear. He didn't care who called her.

He didn't understand this!

"His name..." he said softly. His wife blinked, a nervous look forming on her face as she watched him quietly. "His name... is Aya..."

"Aya...?" she repeated. Her hands tightened, and she looked at him closely. "How do you know? Honey... are you starting to remember? Do you know him? Did you?"

He shook his head, letting his hands uncurl. Reaching over, he took her hands in his, then placed his forehead against them, sighing.

_I don't know..._

_"I just can't remember..."_

It hurt to think about it. He was shaking, and she stayed silent, stroking his hair gently. There were few words of consoling she could give here, but soon found two soft ones.

_"He'll live..."_

..._it's not over... it couldn't be, so soon... it's never over..._

He finally stopped. The car rolled slowly to a halt, and soon the slight vibrations ended as the engine concluded. His driver popped out of the car, then moved and opened his door. Quietly, he stepped out of the vehicle.

She remained silent and stayed in the car, closed laptop resting underneath the palms of her manicured hands. She was holding the data for him, and he was handling business.

He said nothing once he left, and walked calmly to the entrance. Gates were to the left and right of the building, displaying small grass fields, prisoners either playing sports or sitting under trees. There were a few standing by the gate, two standing at the fence to his right.

_"Yeah... that's the big-shot there..."_

_"He's a Takatori... slime..."_

His jaw tightened. But he kept walking. Common prisoners weren't of his concern; he was looking for one in specific.

_"I'm coming for you..."_

_"I always trusted you... Omi..."_

_"I'm not..."_

_A sigh. "I know..."_

He wasn't Tsukiyono Omi. He never was. Tsukiyono Omi never existed. He had been found and given a false label; he had a name now, a true one. It wasn't very agreeable, but it was his name. There was no Tsukiyono Omi, only a new Takatori.

_Fictional..._

..._no... this is all reality... it has to be..._

He was stepping into reality. They gave him a new outfit; he wore pressed, tan slacks and a crisp, dark blue top. He almost went with a tie, but thought against it, believing his clean black boots and his hair gelled back were enough. Thankfully, they gave him his goggles back, and he placed them on top of his head calmly.

He was...

_Ready...? No... he could never be ready. But he was willing._

He stood by a window in an office, a hand in his pocket as he watched a car drive to the front. The man who exited brought a smile to his lips. He had called and received an immediate welcome. They weren't just friends...

_Good friends? Maybe more..._

The minute he looked up, the brunette found himself smiling, lifting a hand to wave.

_...there he is... coming to save me from my self-inflicted nightmares...  
_

"Yes, thank you. I'll be sure to keep him out of trouble."

"Thank _you,_ Takatori-sama," the official said, smiling slightly. The two men rose from their chairs, both bowing to each other out of respect. With that, the official waved an arm to the guard standing by his side. "Now, if you will follow Higuchi-san here, he will take you to Hidaka-san."

The Takatori nodded calmly and followed the older man to an empty office...

Empty, save one individual.

"Please, leave us."

The guard bowed and exited.

Silence...

Ken ran over, immediately pulling his old friend into a hug. "Oh, thank goodness you're okay!"

Mamoru smiled. "Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay... I'm glad to see you're doing better..." He looked at his friend, happiness twinkling in his eyes as he took in his friend's wardrobe. "Wow... to think, you got all dolled up, just for me."

"Well, they wouldn't let me wear just _anything_..." Ken replied with a sheepish smile, moving a hand to the back of his head. Calmly, he smoothed down his hair, his cheeks pinkening slightly. "Now that you're such a big-shot now and all... you're not my little Omi anymore..."

Mamoru's smile twitched, almost leaving his face, but he kept it frozen. "Ken, you know there was no Omi..."

_Never was... never should have been..._

Ken nodded. "Yeah... but I'm still glad you came, Om...Mamoru-kun..." He frowned for a moment.

His own smile faltered.

_It just wasn't the same..._

He cleared his throat. "Well, yes, come on. I'm sure you're sick of seeing this place by now. Let us go, Hidaka-kun."

Quietly, the two left the building and climbed into the car.

_...something's different... everything's changed..._

She gave him a small cup of tea, told him it would make him feel better.

The man was sleeping still. Resting. The pulse monitor beeped quietly, each sound echoing through the silence.

He sat in the room this time, in a chair next to the window, light from a streetlamp creating a small, blurry orb against the dark sky peering through the pale, thin curtains. It was bleak and empty below on the streets, and he found more comfort standing inside the climate-controlled in-patient room than outside in the unpredictable city. It was late; visiting hours had ended an hour ago, but he sat and waited. He couldn't leave yet.

The door slowly slid open, and Asuka peeked her head in.

_His Asuka... perhaps..._

"Thought I'd find you here..." she said softly. She slowly came into the room, her soft footsteps echoing as she made her way over to her husband, standing next to him. "The doctors say it's just a waiting game," she told him. "They're not sure if it'll be days or months..."

"I'll have to wait for him.."

_He waited for me..._

She sighed softly. "I know, sweetie, I know..." They remained silent for a few minutes, and she checked her watch, then glanced back at him. "Yohji, sweetie, it's late, visiting hours have been over for hours... come on, let's go home."

He stared reluctantly at her, then frowned and nodded. He didn't even know him...

_He did, he was sure..._

Taking Asuka's hand in his, he let her quietly lead him out of the room and into the plain white hallway. They headed to the car in silence.

"Lazy bum!"

He smacked Ken with a pillow for the eighth time that afternoon, when the taller man lazily fell asleep on the couch. Again. He had been napping quite a bit since they arrived, crashing in an armchair, then at the meal table, then after dinner on the couch. He just worked himself into a cosy place and began to snore softly.

_Comforting snores..._

They were the same snores from before, echoing through the room, letting anyone know he was there.

_Letting anyone know he was alive..._

But sleepy. He was irritated by it, his grandfather annoyed at the odd, persistent sound that 'disturbed the pagonias'. He had gone into the living room and proceeded in smacking Ken with a pillow, just as he had when he was younger...

_Back when he was Omi and beating Ken with a pillow for slacking on the job always seemed so common..._

No.

_He wasn't Omi_.

He was Takatori--an inward cringe--Mamoru, and he cared for the well-being of his family. And right now, the well-being of his family was getting the bum off the couch.

"Hidaka-kun, wake up!" he persisted.

The brunette ignored him, merely reaching out for something to hug. Ken snagged the pillow and promptly dropped it. Mamoru sighed and bent down to grab the pillow, when two flailing hands grabbed hold of him and tugged him near. "Oh yes..."

"Hidaka-kun...?"

"Stay... 's lon'ly..."

Mamoru frowned, sitting his small frame on the edge of the couch, Ken's long, toned hands draped about his waist. A tiny smile formed, crashing through his serious expression, a small feeling of nostalgia floating over to him. Gently, he wiped away a few stray locks of hair from Ken's face.

_Sleep well..._

_...this is what feels normal, even though it's not..._

A Wednesday like no other. The phone was going off and he wanted it stopped. Immediately. As fast as immediate could be, hopefully faster. He merely rolled over, nudging the one next to him. "Answer..." he murmured.

A soft murmur responded, and the bed shifted. Footsteps trudged away from the bed, something metal clicked, and soon a calm, though tired, voice echoed in the room. "Takatori speaking." Businesslike, always businesslike.

Was last night so much like business...?

Ken sat up quickly, eyes widening. Om--Mamoru--stood by a table, tugging on a pair of jeans. Why was Mamoru putting on his jeans, asides from the sake of convenience of pants in reach? The man continued a conversation on the phone with murmurs of "Alright" and "Yes" amd "I understand". A few minutes of that, and as he continued, Ken lay back on the pillows, trying to think of an explanation.

_Had they... as they had before...?_

Mamoru hung up shortly and set the cell phone down on his desk. He soon spun around and looked at Ken calmly, arms crossed over a bare, toned chest. "We're being called," he announced.

"Called?" Ken returned to sitting upright and frowned in confusion. "Okay, clear this up for me, Omi. Why am I in your bed, how come you're in my jeans, and what the hell are we being called about?"

A pout was tugging, absolutely begging, to form on his lips, as hair fell in front of his eyes, and he frowned. "Hidaka-kun, my name is _Mamoru._ Not Omi," he said calmly. "And seriously,"--his voice took a turn of disappointment--"you don't remember?"

"Remem...ber?" Ken had to pause for a minute and think this through. He remembered taking lots of naps, and then... that cursed game Mamoru challenged him to, on choosing where to sleep. Then he landed in Mamoru's bed, and the clothes vanished, and--"Oh... _that_! I remember, really, O--Mamoru-kun..."

The younger one was still rather pouty, but he merely returned to the bed, staring down at him calmly. "That was Manx... Weiss has a mission."

Even with a slight pout and blue jeans, his words rang truth. However, Ken just couldn't take him seriously in that outfit.

_...truly back to normal... not so much as always, but it feels so right..._

_It felt so common._

Calm and normal, common. He was back in the room, silent, the tag by a bed reading "Fujimiya Aya". That was the unconscious man's name. They questioned Yohji, but believed him; it was the amnesia, it was wearing away, the psychiatrist had told him that afternoon. He was getting better, he could remember.

"I'm in love with a woman named Asuka," he told himself in the room.

_I'm obsessed with a woman named Asuka._

He was silent. So common, yet it felt strange, as he sat, staring out of the window's pale curtains to the day's sky ahead of him. Asuka checked on him once every hour, and she always found him sitting right there. It was calm, normal, common, _him._ She loved him, he knew, and it made him happy to know that he could remember her.

_Remember... it was so difficult to remember..._

The door opened and she entered, looking over at him. "Yohji, sweetie, are you okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "I'm fine..." he replied. To enforce his answer, he added a smile.

She left quickly afterwards, called back to duty of some unruly seven-year-old screaming over a toy of sorts. He watched her go, yet as she left his presence, he didn't feel any different.

_He was still empty..._

Beep... beep... beep... be-beep... be-be-beep...

Yohji looked up. Uncommon... very uncommon. He frowned and turned to look toward the bed, where the man shifted, uncomfortable, groaning softly as he struggled to sit up. Yohji rushed over and shook his head, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. "No, you're not okay to move yet," he said softly, easing the man back onto his pillows.

The red-haired man... _Fujimiya Aya_... looked up through hazy eyes, blinking a few minutes. "Y-Yohji...?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

"H-how do you know my name?" Yohji immediately questioned. "Why do I know you? _How_ do I know you?"

Aya winced in pain at his stomach, but soon leaned back, turning to one side, looking up as he whispered two calm words:

"The... flowers..."

_...having seen eyes like yours... this isn't heaven but remains enjoyable..._

_...the answers that await us might not be what we want..._

_The answers that await might be what we need..._

_The questions that we ask probably aren't what we want to know..._

_They're what we need to know._

Yohji's cell phone rang.

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.speicher.**end**.

Memory.

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.wk.

Yeah, so thazit. More people need to get into Weiss, it's great. -giggle-

**:Darkness Princess.**


End file.
